


American Culture

by himboalfred



Series: Fratboys and Nations [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol, America and England totally have crushes on each other, France knows these boys are GAY, Humor, M/M, The world needs more fratboy America, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, overly excessive use of bro, what else do i tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23912554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himboalfred/pseuds/himboalfred
Summary: America, bored out of his mind from politics and whatever world events are taking place, decided to do what any typical American teenage boy does– join a fraternity. This does not bode well for the rest of the nations. USUK.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia)
Series: Fratboys and Nations [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723627
Comments: 12
Kudos: 44





	American Culture

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So, being in quarantine definitely made me fall down the rabbit hole and start rereading fics for my first ever anime– Hetalia. I kinda fell back in love with them, but I realized there's no fics with America as a fratboy! As a college student involved in Greek life, I just had to do this. I really hope you guys enjoy :) Warning: excessive use of 'bro' and 'dude.'

Loud snores echo the wreck of the frat house, coming from the bodies laying on the floor. Red solo cups litter the floor surrounding the men, all of which in various states of undress. In the center of them, exactly where he likes to be, is the United States of America. His arm is thrown over his face to block out the sunlight as he sleeps, glasses strewn somewhere in the heap of trash , shirt missing to show off, surprisingly, a muscular chest and a toned stomach. A diet consisting of nothing but McDonalds clearly does a body good.

_RRRRIIIING. RRRRIIIING. RRRRIIIIN–_

America’s eyes fly open as he jolts awake. He reaches blindly for his phone, patting around spots on the floor. Finally grabbing the device, he shuts off the alarm, confused. 

Why did he set that for so early?

America stares at his phone in shock, seeing all of the notifications he missed. Eleven missed calls and thirty texts from England. What could the older nation want so bad that he’s blowing up his shit for? He looks at the time, trying to figure out if they had a date or England needed to be picked up from the airport.

11:09 AM.

Oh, not bad. He usually wakes up way later after a night with the guys–

“OH MY GOD THE G-8 MEET!” America exclaims, causing a few groans to ring out from the men laying nearest to him.

“Too early Jones!” someone whines.

America apologizes quietly. He squints as he tries to find his glasses– and his pants.

“Yo, Al, you good bro?” a sleepy voice asks, interrupting what would’ve been a meltdown of screaming. 

The young adult sits up and looks at him with concern, rubbing the sleepiness out of his honey colored eyes. His dark hair is a mess, but he’s somehow making it work. He’s also missing his clothes, showing off tattoos that he will definitely regret after graduation.

“Chad, dude, I’m late for my meeting!” America panics, looking around. “I don’t even know where my clothes–or Texas!– are, and–”

“Man, chill out! Everyone knows you gotta be fashionably late to things bro,” Chad cuts him off with a laugh. After his alcohol fogged mind catches up to what America said, he grins and adds, “It’s so cool that you call your glasses Texas.”

“Thanks!” America’s chest puffs up at the slightest of compliments. He’s silently relieved the college student isn’t weirded out by his accidental slip up. “This meeting’s pretty serious though, dude! It’s about like, warning the globe or some shit. The rest of the guys are gonna be pissed…” America trails off, looking for his clothes with difficulty. He squints, trying to make out the blurry blobs.

“D’you need to dress up or something? Lame,” Chad comments as he watches America try to sort through the mess. 

“Yeah, but I definitely don’t have time to go home and get into my suit. I’m already ten minutes late,” America complains. “And now I’m missing everything except my boxers. I can’t show up like this.” Germany would kill him. Though, seeing England flustered would be fun… 

Chad hums in thought. Suddenly, his eyes lighten with an idea. “Alfred! Dude, you totally survived Hell Night! Now I can finally give you your hoodie, man!”

“Wait,” America says with a dramatic pause. “Am I officially in Kappa Sig now?”

“Yup!” Chad beams, slapping the nation on his back. “Ow. Bro, you’re like a rock.”

America whoops, and the two bump fists. “Dude, yes! I love you guys, man.”

“Lemme go grab your hoodie I made you,” Chad says as he stretches and stands up. “I can give you a pair of my shorts, too.”

“Dude…” America whispers, eyes shining happily. “You made me a hoodie?” 

“Of course! As your Big, I had to. All of us fought over who would get to be yours, but I won the pushup contest,” Chad brags with a wink. “I think you’re gonna love the hoodie and nickname I gave you bro.” With that, he walks out of the main room, carefully avoiding stomping on fingers or stepping in sticky dried alcohol stains.

America sends a quick text to England, then giddily bounces in place as he waits. 

After impatiently rocking back and forth for a few minutes, America lights up when Chad comes back into the living area, fully dressed. He’s in gray sweatpants and a t-shirt that reads KΣ. His hair is wavy and out of his face, and his arms are behind his back. There’s that ever present grin on his face. 

“Welcome to the family, little bro!” Chad announces, holding out the hoodie. Even in his sleep, another frat brother manages a small ‘woo!’ as he throws his arm up before another snore.

America stares at it, unable to stop the wide smile from forming. The hoodie is dark gray with the same letters as Chad’s, but the K is blue with white stars, and the Σ is red and white striped, clearly handmade and patched.

Seeing his expression, Chad smirks and turns the hoodie around. With the same font and patchwork is his real name, _America_ , and SP’15. 

America’s heart drops. Fuck, these boys know his biggest secret. Not even some of the White House staff know! What is he gonna tell the other countries? He just wanted to be normal for a while! Oh God, he’s gonna need Tony and the Men In Suits…

“The boys didn’t know what nickname to give you and we all argued a bit,” Chad says, not noticing America’s internal crisis. “But then it suddenly clicked. You’re like, the embodiment of America, dude! It took me like a week to patch the letters. I hope you– _oof_!” Chad is cut short by America pulling him into a tight hug. 

“Thank you, dude. This is… really sweet,” America says, oddly serious and extremely happy. _Thank God I don’t have to wipe his memories!_ He internally celebrates.

“Hey man, anything for a brother.” Chad ruffles the taller guy’s hair. “Don’t you have to go to work?”

“SHIT!”

“You need a ride to your job, bro?” Chad asks, laughing as America struggles to put on the hoodie and basketball shorts at the same time. He somehow manages it, though.

“Yes! You’re the best.”

“You mind if we stop at McDonalds? I need coffee and hashbrowns.”

“Chad… are you my soulmate?”

* * *

Sitting in a dreary office room around a table restlessly, the countries attempt to entertain themselves. Italy sleeps, France picks the flower of a rose petal muttering “elle m'aime, elle ne m'aime pas,” under his breath, England texts on his phone while trying to pretend that he is NOT texting, Canada attempts to get noticed under the weight of Russia, and Japan and China speak quietly to each other. Germany snaps a pencil in half, on the brink of having an aneurysm.

“He does know we specifically set the meeting in New York so this sort of thing wouldn’t happen, right?” Germany asks, a vein bulging on his forehead. “You said he was on his way, ja?” He looks towards the short British nation.

England nods, still trying to make sense of the stupid text speech he received by the man in question.

_American Arsehole_ : ima b l8 but

_American Arsehole: YOOOOOOOOOOO :DD!!_

What the absolute fuck did this mean? Also, why did the idiot send two separate texts instead of putting it all into one message? Was his attention span that horrid that the boy couldn't type it all at once?

“L'Amerique had a wild time last night from what I saw… if I were involved in an orgy, I’d be late too,” France purrs.

Silence.

“WHAT!?” Germany, England, Japan, and China scream in unison. Italy snorts quietly in his sleep, Russia just smiles, and Canada sighs.

“It wasn’t an orgy,” the soft-spoken nation tries to say. No one listens, of course.

“Explain.” England glares at France.

“He sent me a video last night,” France says with a sultry grin. “I was quite jealous of him. I believe I can still replay it on this weird app.” France takes out his phone, unlocks it and opens the familiar ghost app with a yellow background. 

“What is this?” China asks, as the countries stand up and huddle around France to look at his phone.

“It’s some stupid shite app. America made me download it as well,” England says with a roll of his eyes. He won’t mention the fact that they are best friends on the app symbolized by a red heart with a streak of over two hundred days, and that he thoroughly enjoys the shower pictures he receives every morning.

“Oh, mein bruder uses it.” Germany nods in recognition, holding his chin as he inspects the app.

France holds down on America’s chat, and the video immediately reloads with a notification to replay. France clicks the purple icon.

America’s face shows up on the screen, with an obvious flush on his cheeks and his eyes glazed over. There’s loud music playing in the background, and men cheering. He has an unsteady hold on the phone.

“Your turn to chug! Want me to hold your phone and record?” someone asks loudly.

“Yeah!” America yells back and he pulls away from the phone to flash a drunken pearly grin. He’s handed a bottle of Fireball, and he easily twists the cap off. He points at the phone camera, winking. “Thank youuuuu Canadia for this delicious drink!” 

“Mon dieu, he makes Angleterre look like a professional with the way he’s slurring his words,” France comments with a laugh. England punches him, relishing in the wince from the other man.

Focusing back on the video, America is halfway done with the fireball. The boys around him are all chanting “CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!” as America gets down on one knee, holding his fist up in victory once he takes the last gulp. 

He throws the bottle against the ground, springing up. “FUCK YEAH! Y’all ain’t got nothin’ on me! Ima fuckin’ superpower an’ shit!” America rambles, grabbing the phone from whoever’s holding it and shaking it violently. “You hear me dudes? THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA CAN DO ANYTHING!”

“USA! USA!” The men around him chant, jumping up and down and grabbing one another, extremely offbeat to the music.

“Kappa Sig got the BEST of the BEST!” One of the boys proclaims after nationalism dies down, and the video cuts off abruptly as soon as they all start chanting nonsense.

Silence.

“What the bloody hell was that?” England asks with a cringe. These American twits have absolutely butchered _his_ English. Though not religious, he feels like he needs to say a prayer and ask forgiveness on behalf of their atrocious slaughter of the innocent language.

“I had no idea America could hold his liquor that well,” Russia murmurs thoughtfully to himself with a hum. 

“He’s in a college phase,” Canada explains. When they continue talking amongst themselves, he sighs. Why does he even bother showing up to these, again?

“Why did you call it an orgy, you idiot?” England scowls at the blonde frenchman. “It’s clearly a party.”

“Hon hon! I’ve seen enough porn to know where _those_ lead,” France says saucily with a wink. He laughs when the Brit’s face goes red, sputtering. It’s just too easy to rile the other man up.

The door slams open, startling the Italian nation awake, and the man of the hour walks in. He’s missing his glasses, the typical burger in his hand, and his bomber jacket. The countries stare at him in confusion of his choice of attire. England definitely grumbles about the lack of a proper suit, tugging on his own collar. Behind him stands the poster child for douchebag, who peeks into the room with a low whistle.

“Thanks again, dude,” America says as he squints at everyone. Shit. He really should get lasik.

“I didn’t know the reps for the United Nations were so young, bro,” Chad says, lifting his sunglasses up. He hands America a cup of coffee and a McDonalds bag–at least _something_ is normal–and flashes a smile at him. “I’ll pick you up afterwards, sound cool Jones?”

“Awesome!” America grins holding out his hand. “Can you look for my glasses too?”

“Sure bro. Gonna make the newbies clean up my house, one of ‘em will find “Texas” for ya.” Chad grins, gripping America’s hand. The two do a ~~stupid~~ secret handshake, and America closes the door as Chad exits.

“Sorry guys! I was out really late last night, heh…” He scratches the back of his neck, walking towards his seat next to England, bumping into the same potted plant at _least_ twice.

“Who’s your cute friend, mon ami?” France asks, raising an eyebrow with a smile. 

“Oh, that’s Chad! He’s my brother.” America answers with a smile at the Frenchman.

“Your... brother?” China asks, raising an eyebrow. He glances towards the door, a frown on his face. “I don’t remember ever seeing a nation like him before. Where is ‘Chad’ and what is he the personification of?”

“Oh, is this like how Prussia is East?” Germany questions, looking less tense. If the topic was about something productive like a new nation, he could forgive America’s tardiness.

“Is he that one nation above you?” England asks. 

Canada scoffs, rolling his eyes. Whatever. See if these guys ever get maple syrup again.

“Pshhhh, nah!” America laughs obnoxiously as he opens his McDonalds bag. “Chad’s my frat brother!” He reaches inside and pulls out a wrapped egg mcmuffin. Gotta switch it up, you know how it is.

“What?” Germany raises an eyebrow. “What does that even mean?”

“Oh! Oh! I know this one!” Italy bounces in his seat, eagerly waving his hand. “Fratello!”

Everyone looks more confused, even Russia. 

“Uh, Italy–” Germany starts, but stops himself. He sighs, deciding to pick and choose his battles. At least the boy’s heart is in the right place. 

America grins, snapping at the smaller brunet though he doesn’t know what fratello even means. “Exactly, dude!” The two reach across the table and high five. America takes a bite of his breakfast, moaning. “Fuck, I needed this.” 

“Oi,” England says with a snap in America’s face, causing the younger nation to choke slightly in surprise. “We have no idea what you’re talking about. What’s a frat brother?”

“I joined college,” America explains with a mouth full of food. He swallows, taking a sip of coffee. “I know y’all don’t have this, but we have fraternities and sororities in all of our colleges. It’s called Greek life. It’s so much fun! When uh, you know, they aren’t hazing people…” he mutters, coughing. At least he has the decency to look shamed.

“You joined university?” England asks, slightly impressed. Maybe the lad will finally start caring about how far behind his education is…

“Does it look like I’m at DisneyWorld right now?” America raises an eyebrow, smirking at England’s idiocy. “Forget your pills, old man? Universal ain’t a college.”

Never mind.

“As much as we’d love to hear more of your useless escapades,” Germany says through grit teeth, “We do have a meeting to get to. Which we are now a half hour behind.”

The stiff blond walks to the front of the room, setting his papers down. He loads up his powerpoint, and everyone shifts their attention to him, taking out their notepads and pens.

“Waw, waw waw waw. Waw waw,” Germany says. Well, that’s what America hears. He huffs quietly to himself, pouting in his chair as he pulls his hoodie up. 

This is so boring. Who cares about global events? He’s only really here for oil and to be a menace to society.

America glances around, taking out his phone after seeing everyone’s attention is on Germany. He goes to his text messages, debating if he should push England’s buttons and text the man next to him. It'll be so funny to see the older nation get caught. Oh! Maybe he should send a risque–

His phone beeps quietly at the sound of an incoming message. He clicks the notification, smiling at who it's from.

_Chad: Found ur specs 4eyes [TEXAS_PURCHASE.IMG]_

America sighs quietly in relief, typing out his response discreetly.

_Ur a lifesaver bro <3333 _

_Chad: Tyler was asleep on them ur lucky his fat ass didnt break them LOL_

_LMFAO_

After no further texts from the college student, America sets his phone face down on the table and attempts to tune into whatever Germany is saying. Wow, this is hard. He just sounds so boring. How are him and Prussia even related? Oh, speaking of the should be dead nation, America should text him and ask if he’s coming to the toga party that weekend–

_SO I PUT MY HANDS UP THEY’RE PLAYING MY SONG, THE BUTTERFLIES FLY AWAY~_

All eyes turn to him, with more than one glaring. America laughs nervously, silently cursing himself for never muting his volume. He picks up his phone to see who’s calling. It can’t be Chad, everyone knows college boys avoid phone calls like the plague.

Seeing the name, his eyes light up.

“Dudes, I have to take this.” America slides to accept the facetime call.

“Is it Obama?” Italy bounces in his seat excitedly. “I love that guy!” 

“ALFIE BABY! CONGRATS ON YOUR BIG!” A very non-Obama, feminine voice screams. On the screen, though a bit pixelated, is a blonde bombshell. 

“Kaitlyn!” America exclaims with a happy grin. He blows a kiss at the phone. “How long have you known, babe? Be honest.” 

England tries not to bristle at the “babe” comment. _Tries_. 

France smirks at him. The unresolved sexual (romantic?) tension between the two makes for a great drinking game. He should definitely try that out at the next world meeting.

“Chad’s had his eye on you since you two shared American Lit with Prof. Barnes,” Kaitlyn says with a wink. “The girls are so excited to do mixers with you. You’re totally gonna be our honorary. Don’t tell anyone!”

“Really? Awesome,” America says, making a show of touching his heart. “You know I love ADPi. You girls are like my little sisters.”

“Awwww!” A few girls behind Kaitlyn squeal. “He’s so cute!”

“Hey!” Kaitlyn says, glaring at them. “You’re supposed to be studying your alphabet and the past presidents. Get back to work.”

They grumble, loud enough to where America smirks.

“You’re _still_ rushing them?” America asks, laughing loudly. 

“Shut up Alfred, our program lasts longer.” Kaitlyn squints at the screen, bringing her phone closer to her face. “Where are you? The library?” 

“Oh, shit,” America mutters under his breath, as if he forgot where he was. He probably did. “Kait, I gotta go.”

“Don’t forget about the toga mixer this Friday! Bring your vampire friend!” Kaitlyn manages to yell before America hangs up, an innocent grin on his face. 

“Haha, anyways, I totally agree with everything Germany was saying,” he attempts.

“I know you don’t care about anything outside of your admittedly large land mass, but this is just ridiculous,” England says with a scowl.

“Did you just call me fat!?” America scowls, hands crossed over his chest defensively. His citizens are on a dieting fad, he's totally _not_ overweight!

“What did she mean by vampire friend?” Germany asks, dreading the answer.

“Well uh, Prussia was supposed to be my frat brother but then he kinda got kicked off campus after an incident,” America explains to Germany, choosing not to go into detail.

Germany looks horrified, then quickly shakes his head, berating himself for getting off track. “Never mind that– America! You need to answer your personal calls _after_ we finish here! Take this seriously!”

America has the decency to look guilty for about half a second. It’s an improvement.

“Did your friend mention something about a party, Amerique?” France asks, a sultry grin on his face. 

“I wanna go to a party!” Italy exclaims, a happy smile on his face. 

“The party is a toga mixer between Kappa and ADPi. Its members only, but everyone invites their friends too,” America grins. “They’re awesome!”

“Can I come?” Russia asks with an innocent smile.

“Fuck no baby,” America sings. “No commies allowed!” He points towards China and Russia, who roll their eyes. 

“I wasn’t planning to attend anyways,” China mutters. 

“I refuse to go,” Germany says firmly. 

“No offense dude, but you’re a stick in the mud. I wasn’t gonna ask you either.” America turns his attention to Italy with a grin. “You’re totally invited, the girls are gonna love you!” 

“I’ve changed my mind, I wish to attend,” Germany says quickly. 

“Uh.” America looks at him weirdly.

“Just to make sure… the cops aren’t called. I’m assuming Prussia’s invited?” Germany clarifies, though with his glance at the tiny Italian it is clearly not the only reason.

“Oh! Thanks, dude!” America grins. 

“Am I invited?” France purrs into America’s ear, somehow behind him. America flinches, covering the accosted body part.

“You like, can’t act creepy bro,” America trails off, clearly hesitant whether he wants to agree or not.

“I’ll supervise him!” England jumps in, hand shooting up as if he’s in a classroom. “Not that I want to attend your moronic get together full of mistakes, but while Germany looks out for his demented brother, it’s only fair I help out with you and France.” 

“Sure,” America agrees with a laugh. “No getting too drunk, Iggy.” He winks, enjoying the flush on the paler man’s cheeks.

As America turns to Japan, the nation quickly shakes his head.

“I’m afraid I cannot come, America. Hungary and I already planned to attend an event together,” he says vaguely. America nods in understanding. 

“Okay, cool!” America grins as he stands. “Aw dude, this is awesome! My two worlds are gonna collide! Alright, everyone coming, I’ll send y’all the address. BYOB. Yadda yadda.”

America walks to the door, still squinting to see, and manages to avoid the offending potted plant from earlier. He takes out his phone, sending a quick text to Chad that he’s ready to be picked. “Peace!” He walks out.

“This will be fun, non?” France grins. “A college party. I’ve never been to an American one.”

“Was I even invited? Oh, whatever. If I show up no one will notice,” Canada says with a sigh.

The nations grumble amongst themselves for a moment, speaking quietly about what to wear, why they weren’t allowed, and how shitty American beer is. Then–

“Wait a minute, did that idiot just leave in the middle of the meeting?” England asks. 

They all groan.

**Author's Note:**

> So there you have it! I based Chad and Kaitlyn off of my actual friends also in Greek life haha. I also added a comment about Car's drabble that I love, where Hungary and co do a drinking game based off of USUK's interactions! I totally would love to make this a series, I definitely have ideas planned (the toga party, America getting arrested, coming out to his frat/sorority friends, etc etc) but it's all up to you guys if you want more. :) Talk to me @muzanjacksons on tumblr!


End file.
